Frail
by Anesther
Summary: This is what would happen, for me, if Naraku won and Kohaku was the only one left. Flames, criticism ect is welcome with open arms. The idea just came and wouldn't go away...


Everything had ceased to exist. The air reeked of blood. Fallen comrades and allies lay slain upon the red earth. How was this possible? It was easy; he had played them all for fools. When the powerful priestess had no longer presented herself as a threat, he had finally beaten her and the woman who had the most power over the self proclaimed hanyou, had finally been vanquished and laid down to finally sleep in the arms of her beloved. Since then Naraku's powers increased and no one seemed to be able to pose a potential danger. Therefore, many had been killed.

The ruthless puppeteer was merciless when he had the urge to destroy human villages and plagued the land with famine and death. He had become a bigger nuisance among the youkai society, and many had formed alliances to bring down the monster that was born from the flesh of man. But the results were unexpected, and drastic. The horde of demons and oni that had went against the half breed, were easily dealt with, along with Koga. For the prince of the Eastern Wolf tribe had fought valiantly to a one on one struggle with the bastard who had destroyed his brothers, though fate was no longer aiding the demon and had turned on him.

Deep gashes were inflicted into the areas where he had once held the shards of the tainted jewel, his chest marred with scars and burns. His two comrades also lay by his side, for neither had wanted to abandon their leader and fought with their friend but at a price. A wound in their pride, their loyalty was great but not enough, for they were now dead. And the Eastern tribe was now extinct.

Deep within the forest of Inuyasha, another tale of tragedy had begun to weave itself. Dark stains covered the robe of the Fire Rat, seeping into it as the silver hair fell across his face. Golden eyes losing their sight and glazing over with the loss of life. A cry of anguish rang as a girl ran to his side and held him close to her breast, shoulders slumping in defeat. Her sobs were abruptly halted as a tentacle flew into her back and she fell down onto the silver haired male, a broken sword crying out for its master but stopped pulsing when it felt the heart make one last beat.

The young kit watched the scene, his little heart breaking as he looked on with an expression of grief to see his adopted parents die. A second later, he too fell down to the ground, his green irises blank and lifeless.

All that was left was the monk and the taijiya. But that would soon go down to one.

The wind tunnel had grown over the past year and the houshi knew his time would come sooner or later. Maybe even now at this moment.

A deep sinister chuckle echoed in the trees and the monk spun quickly around to barely evade the sharp tentacle that was aimed for him. Throwing a sutra towards the hanyou, he widened his eyes when it was rejected and burned to ashes the instant it touched the barrier that was protecting his enemy. Another pointed attack from his right had him jump into the air but that was closer than the last. They could not possibly defeat him if this kept up.

The taijiya scanned the darkness of the dense brush and managed to dodge the oncoming assault to her mid section. With a warrior's cry, she released her boomerang and it flew straight into the trees but the figure was no longer there. Unsheathing the katana that rested against her hip, she slashed forward and watched as a demon flew out and bit into her arm.

Seething with rage, she brought her sword down and cut the head of the youkai that moved again to make another strike to her leg. Grabbing her weapon, she released it once more to aim at the demon that had unexpectedly come from over her head.

The monk had begun to use his spiritual powers but it was slowly exhausting him. He wouldn't give in though. Calling out to the young slayer who fought by his side, he warned her that he was opening the dark endless void that didn't seem as frightening as usual. They had to kill Naraku and that was the only option to look at this moment. Either kill or be killed.

The wind had changed in speed and everything within reach was pulled towards the tunnel where nothing, not even light could escape. Demons were brought in, each being sucked by the hand of death. The hanyou watched in amusement and decided to end the life of the persistent monk. Unleashing his poisonous wasps, they let themselves get drawn in and the houshi winced in pain as his hand started to pulse. A cry of concern from behind caught his attention and he glanced over his shoulder to see the woman he longed to hold in his arms, shed tears.

Giving her a reassuring smile, the monk held firm under the weight of demons crashing into his hand and the poison that had began to spread into his arm, the toxic fumes mixing with his blood.

The slayer cried out for him to stop but he stood in place, unwilling to lose.

Scanning the dark forest with brown eyes, she continued looked for the elusive hanyou that had caused them so much grief. A tentacle came out and scratched her calf, red drops coming out from the wound and trickling down her leg to fall onto the ground.

"You're all pathetic," a dark voice said, bitter venom coating every word.

Narrowing her eyes, she moved forward and threw the Hiraikotsu into the trees only to have it reflected and thrown back to hit her square in the stomach. Reeling back and clutching herself, she gripped the side of her weapon and blocked the tentacle that headed for her chest.

A cry from her companion caught her attention and she spun around to see the man she loved fall onto his knees, his body trembling and the Kazaana still open as he spat out blood.

"Stop Houshi-sama!" she pleaded with him.

The monk knew he should stop but if he did, what would happen? He could not afford to lose another thing to the bastard that lurked in the dark. He decided, almost grudgingly, that he should close the Wind Tunnel; he was about to wrap the beads around his palm when a tentacle slashed across his back.

The woman ran towards him the instant she heard his yell. Kneeling down beside him, the man she had wanted to share her life with looked up at her with those deep blue eyes that even as he was dying, still held the warmth she had always seen. He held their gaze and let a weary smile plaster itself on his lips.

She could not smile however.

Somehow, her face could not let a smile come out. Her lips trembled as she held him in her arms and a warm hand touched her cheek.

"It's alright," he whispered softly. Tracing his thumb across her soft pink lips the monk had been able to prop himself up and place a chaste kiss on her mouth. He fell back down, his body going limp and his eyes clouding until they had finally gone black.

She held him close, blaming herself for letting him use the Wind Tunnel and cursing herself that she had never told him that she loved him. She could've done that. That was a simple enough task and yet, it had proved to be the most difficult.

A chuckle brought her out of her musings and the slayer stood to face her opponent. She was the last one left. If she didn't kill him, then everything that they worked to achieve would be meaningless. And she would do it, to avenge her village and comrades. She could do that at least.

She then broke into a dash, releasing the Hiraikotsu. Naraku smirked at what he thought pitiful attempts and deflected the young girl's weapon. A round house kick came hard into his barrier tossing the slayer back. Quickly standing back onto her feet, she rushed forward and took out her sword once again. A stroke downwards and another from the side did nothing. What could she do? She had no real power to fight him. All she had to go on was her taste for revenge and her determination was still there, so she attacked again.

**xXxXx**

It was cold.

It was always cold, ever since that day.

She fell to the ground when she felt a sharp sting into her arm, blood welting out of the wound, splashing onto her clothes and staining the earth.

Another sinister chuckle emanated from the figure before her. Rising to her feet, she glared with utter hatred as she lifted the giant boomerang over her head and aimed it for him only to halt mid step.

Her brother had emerged from the woods, his chain sickle held in hand and his face void of emotion.

"No…" she said softly. "You… You're not supposed…" Sango then turned to the hanyou and lashed out at him, her cry ringing in the air and brought down her weapon only to be pushed back.

The hanyou smirked then let out a bitter laugh. "Did you honestly believe that I wouldn't be able to take him back?"

"But you aren't supposed to be able too!" she cried out in anger and sorrow. "He broke the spell you had on him!"

"Yes but your brother had always been one that was weak. Just like you and your comrades Sango,"

"You bastard! Let my little brother go!"

Naraku merely smirked before giving the possessed child a command. "Kohaku, I want to kill that woman. And do it slowly,"

"Yes Master Naraku," Kohaku said dully as he charged towards his sibling.

It was just like before. Sango dodged the assault and then blocked the oncoming attack from her left with her Hiraikotsu as the scythe flew towards her.

"Please Kohaku! Stop, you broke the spell before!"

The younger boy's expression remained blank and stalked forward, his figure clothed in black mingling with the dark shadows, his eyes, though they were devoid of emotion, gleamed with some unknown bitterness.

Sango blocked the next slash from the chain, her elegant brows furrowed with anguish and pain. How did he fall back under Naraku's control? That wasn't supposed to happen. Kohaku shouldn't be suffering anymore. There was also no darkness in his heart for Naraku to grip and hold onto to. Or was there?

The slayer shook her head vigorously. That was impossible. Her shy, timid brother couldn't possibly hold anything such as evil and hate in his heart. But… Was he even truly her brother anymore? Though he had the same appearance and held the same persona, did he change? When his soul had gone to hell and back, did some evil corrupt him before he left?

The chain flew in the air, Kohaku's accurate precision making its target when it cut through and tore itself into her upper arm.

Clutching the wound and trying to prevent the blood from flowing, she blinked when she saw that he was right before her. Widening her eyes, tears staining her cheeks as she felt the scythe tear her abdomen, the pain was unbearable but it paled in comparison to the emotional torment that was thrashing inside her like tumultuous waves.

Gripping the hilt of her blade even tighter till her knuckles became white, she pulled it out again to block the chain sickle and pull it with as much force as she could muster. Running towards her younger brother, she held him tightly by the shoulders, her voice filled with desperation.

"Wake up Kohaku! Don't let Naraku win please! You can wake up can't you? I know you're able to!"

The boy seemed to understand as his mouth had slightly parted but the eyes remained dark and emotionless. Suddenly, his brows knitted themselves together and he kicked his sister in the stomach, her form reeling backwards and falling onto the ground.

"Kohaku…" Sango whispered as she let the salty drops fall.

Naraku let another smirk come out as he watched the grief stricken sister clench her hands into fists.

The boy watched the scene and deep within the possessed heart something cried out. Images flew through his mind, the darkness struggling to maintain its hold on its former puppet. Kohaku groaned and rested his head against his palm, falling down onto his knees.

"Kohaku," Sango asked as she began to walk over to him.

The youngest taijiya continued to hold his head, an ache throbbing in his temple, his heart grieving and wrenching for what he was doing.

"I can see that you are now breaking the spell Kohaku," Naraku's voice cut through the silence.

Sango felt relief almost immediately but the feeling was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Kohaku had slowly risen to his feet, his dark brown eyes still blank but tears slid down his face. "Sister…"

She almost reached out to cup his cheek when he suddenly turned around and picked up his fallen weapon, and made the tip scrape his back.

"No! Stop! What're you doing?!" Sango cried fervently as she stood and rushed over to him with newfound speed.

The young child jumped out of the way and landed gracefully back down. "Sister… stop…"

"Stop what? Do you want me to give up on you Kohaku?" she questioned as she once more tried to make him halt his rash actions. She then whirled to face the half demon that stood with a smirk on his face.

"Make him stop!"

"I'm not doing anything," he scoffed as he waved her off.

"Just make him stop!"

Naraku let another chuckle rumble in his throat before speaking to the boy. "Kohaku, you will remain under my command."

Kohaku didn't seem to comprehend what was just spoken, but his chain stopped moving along his back.

"Instead of killing yourself… Kill your sister. Now."

The boy's eyebrow's twitched as he struggled with the darkness that was consuming him rapidly. He shut his eyes, though they were moving too fast beneath his closed lids.

"Kohaku you have to fight this!" Sango whispered anxiously. "Don't let him win this."

His mind was now succumbed to the black void that had entered. But that didn't mean Naraku wouldn't let him peek.

He raised the chain over his head, the salty drop still falling and mingling along with the crimson droplets that stained his cheeks.

"No… Kohaku…" she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

It came down; crimson staining his face and the tears flowed nonstop. Kohaku had felt his sister's warm blood touch his face; the smell of death filling his nostrils and Naraku had lifted the veil that covered his soul. The sight was horrible.

Her torso and chest were torn. He could see them clearly because she did not fall forward; instead she fell onto her back. Muscles slashed and crimson drops profusely, and slowly slipping out. Bones held marks in them, made by something of the sharpest metal and youkai bone.

His cry echoed through the night. It resembled something similar to the anguished cries of a wolf howling to the moon, they were long, low, mournful, and resounded in the ears of all who heard it.

The half demon watched the young boy. Nothing in his heart made him feel the slightest pity towards the lad and merely gazed on as Kohaku's screams and cries continued to echo. He then fell down to his knees, his body shaking uncontrollably.

He killed her. He killed his only family he had left.

Now he was more alone then he ever felt since his resurrection. There was no one to turn to.

**xXxXx**

He was being used as Naraku's own personal killing machine. He would often be sent to go and kill the offending youkai that dared to try and raise their talons against the hanyou. But he was no longer manipulated.

He killed for the enjoyment of it. To hear blood curdling screams satiated the dark desires that had begun to grow gradually within him. Since his beloved sister's death, his demeanor changed. He no longer felt remorse when he killed the innocent and weak. Kohaku relished the battles, chuckles emanating from his throat when an enemy collapsed. And the fact that he was transforming into someone who was as sadistic and evil as Naraku, no longer bothered him.

He enjoyed the killing for they eased his pain, but he could still see remnants of crimson trailing down his palm, and the guilt would return unhesitatingly.

Kohaku knew that deep down, his sister wouldn't want him to become like Naraku but if she was no longer there to offer comfort, what good was there to even try living?

That thought was very clear and could easily be grasped but the concept and hope was elusive.

He had tried often in his despair.

But the jewel and the fiend, who was responsible for this, kept bringing him back.

For he would try to end this tainted existence. He would pull the shard fragment from his back repeatedly, only to have it stuck back again.

There were times when his periods of anguish and torment consumed him whole and he'd punish himself. He would make his chain cut his throat, slash his wrists, gouge through his torso, pierce his chest and make the tip prick the heart that could never die.

And it was true; he could not perish like his loved ones.

For he would be brought back, his tired sad eyes facing upwards to see that of the sharpest crimson, as deep and dark as the blood of those he had spilled.

"You are a fool young Kohaku," he would tell him gently, but the voice would always be full of hate and scornful amusement.

He had given up in the end, his hope and faith dissipating. But the hanyou would keep tormenting him.

Kohaku was the most loyal of his followers, but was also the one that'd he would torture explicably. At night, he would make him relive the horrid visions, and make the grotesque scenes play themselves out continuously. Kohaku, though he hated watching them, was no longer as usually hurt when they entered his subconscious mind.

He had become immune and well enough, had come, eventually to enjoy the displays. But never the dreams of his sister.

**xXxXx**

Time passed. And over the years, he had become as hard as granite and as cold as ice.

He grew well into manhood; his once shoulder length hair reaching down to the middle of his strong back, but he always kept it up. No one would have guessed that it was Kohaku were they alive. He had matured extremely; no longer did he possess the facial features of an innocent child.

Kohaku had indeed changed.

Hate and destruction was what he had begun to live for, or at least defined as a purpose.

Naraku was exceptionally pleased with this.

Timid and shy was no longer present. It was surprising how such a child had grown to exceed such confidence in his quest for helping the powerful hanyou. A dark wit and intelligence had rubbed off on him over the course of his life under Naraku's influence. And he was not in the least bothered by it.

But it was also not his place to question his persona. He did not fully have his freedom and so was refined to suit the half demon. Though he carried his orders with diligent precision and took them seriously, he would wonder if he truly was supposed to be like this. This question would not remain for long.

Naraku still made him suffer. That had not changed.

Kohaku didn't mind them at all now, so he would want to ask why his master kept replaying them. But he would always keep quiet through them, since he dared not to speak aloud without permission.

As of late, he would desire women. When passing through some village brothel, he would take the women and use them to slake his lust. He would whisper sweet endearments into their ears, but he would caress them roughly. He'd often bruise their lips with his hard kisses, his groin throbbing for release and so would ride them harder.

Their cries brought him amusement, ringing in his ears, he'd ride them harder till salty drops came to their eyes and he'd brush them away but would continue with his chaste kisses, raking his hands down their naked forms.

Once done, he'd leave them, bare and bloody, their cries still echoing in his mind. And yet, he still would not feel complete.

For the woman he sought for was gone.

**xXxXx**

Haunted by her rare smiles, glowing skin and radiant figure, Kohaku would dream and let his lust take over his mind in his sleep.

Dark hair would fall across her bare shoulders, her supple limbs would wrap themselves around his neck and only then, in his dreams, would he be gentle and loving with a woman.

Kohaku would kiss her neck tenderly, graze his knuckles on her cheek while the other caressed her back then rested itself on the swell of her hip.

She was truly the only woman he had loved dearly. But, now gone, he would use his rest to think of her and let his love for her invade his peaceful state.

Kohaku enjoyed these particular times of darkness. Though she would never be beneath him in the flesh, he would let himself recall the way she felt when she had been alive. When they used to be alive, and when they had wrestled with each other, he had indeed felt the soft silky skin of her thighs when her yukata rolled up from the struggle. He wondered if she had even noticed the way he would let his hands linger upon her creamy flesh, or the way his eyes would narrow when some man came close to her and he'd rush over, pulling her away to wrap his arm protectively round her slim waist.

He had never let her know how he had truly felt about her, for he thought that if she knew the truth, she wouldn't come near him as much. So he let his fondness for her consume him and let himself love her from afar. Kohaku would recollect her slender naked form when she went to bathe, remembering how her exquisite body gleamed in the light of pale moon, her hair falling like an aquatic halo and cascade down her back, arms washing her body, hips swaying gently when she moved, her full breasts beckoning him as luscious taut pink petals covered the tips.

_"Ane-ue… Sango…" _

This was how he had been able to survive his tortures. He'd remember his elder sister but because of this, his love for her also prevented him from joining her, where he should've remained all those years ago. He lived for her, because of her. And this was driving him to the brink.

**xXxXx**

It was close to dawn. His eyes taking in the vast lush scenery but he was still not delightful unless he thought of her. To let his life end, he'd need to forget all the precious memories of his sister that had kept him strong and alive through Naraku's imminent wrath and destruction. To join his sister in the afterlife, he knew that he'd have to forget her and let her go here and now.

The young man pushed back the frail memories, he erased them completely from his mind as the images were slowly becoming swallowed by the shadows.The only light he had in this darkness he lived in was rapidly dwindling to nothing.

He could not remember why he was here, or how he had gotten here. He could see nothing but empty space, there was nothing in his mind but images of blood and death. The thoughts were revolting, but were also intriguing. The man touched his face, feeling the way his cold touch was like on his face.

Suddenly, he felt the urge to die. But deep inside, he knew that he was dead already but not where he should be. Grabbing the chain that fit comfortably in his hand, almost like an old friend, he instinctively tore open his back, the cut deep as warm liquid trailed down his back.

Blank eyes reflected the light of the new dawn that they could not see. A pool of crimson spread out underneath his corpse.

There was no way of telling if he had actually become reunited with his beloved sister, but the small hint of a genuine smile across his face.


End file.
